


A Working Theory

by NotYoshihide



Series: Adventures in Inaba [1]
Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Adachi is a model prisoner, Angst, Detectives, Dojima Ryotaro POV, Dojima regrets his own failures, Male Friendship, Mentor/Protégé, Nanako elbow slams Kanji, Other, Persona 4 Visualive The Evolution, Post-Canon, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYoshihide/pseuds/NotYoshihide
Summary: Dojima Ryotaro has a theory that people only end up the way they are because their true self is not seen by those around them. He knows the theory is right, but it would be so much easier for him if it were wrong.Set after the True Ending, and after Persona 4 Arena Ultimax, this is one out of many times Dojima visits Adachi in prison.
Relationships: Adachi Tohru & Dojima Ryotaro, Dojima Nanako & Tatsumi Kanji
Series: Adventures in Inaba [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177016
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	A Working Theory

Case files, a boxed salad, a new detective novel, and of course, all of his forms of identification as the foremost detective in Inaba. Looking at the collected items strewn across the kitchen table, Ryotaro Dojima felt confident he had everything he needed for his trip. On a whim he opened the fridge and wrapped a small object in a napkin, putting it with the boxed salad. The only thing left to do was to wait for someone to come look after Nanako.

“Dad, you’re going to be late,” the seven-year-old girl said, looking up from the living room table and the drawings she was working on. No, calling them drawings at this point was wrong. She was well on her way to becoming a capable artist.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said firmly. It was a vow he made to himself ever since the incident. He still didn’t understand what happened, but Nanako had been kidnapped, consequently died, and miraculously revived all within a single night. How was not within the ken of the elder Dojima’s understanding.

“It’s okay, Dad. I can handle being by myself, I know how.” A pang of guilt coursed through him at those words.

“I’m never leaving you alone again, Nanako,” he slammed his palms on the table, “and that’s final.” His tone was harsher than he intended them to be. It was his nature, and a nature he was hoping to change bit by bit.

He focused his attention on his briefcase, putting the items inside and struggling to put the boxed salad in where it wouldn’t spill its mystery addition. When he looked up at Nanako, though, rather than looking forlorn at being yelled at, she beamed happiness.

“I love you, too, Dad.” For a brief, shining moment the girl’s father couldn’t help but see the girl’s mother in her expression. No, it wasn’t just her expression. It was the way she understood what he had said to her. Her mother used to do that: decipher what he meant to say even though Dojima-san himself often didn’t comprehend what he meant when he said things.

He placed the briefcase on the kitchen table and walked into the living room, crouching down to Nanako’s height. He shifted the toothpick, one of many he perpetually chewed on, from one side of his mouth to the other, trying to think of the right words. Instead, he settled on patting Nanako on the head and smiling at her. Another thing he had vowed to himself to do more often.

She was moving to hug her father when the doorbell rang. “I wonder who that could be?” her father asked in a patronizing tone. He opened their front door to a lanky boy with black hair, glasses, and a coat hanging off his shoulders.

“H-hey, Dojima-san,” said Kanji Tatsumi. He straightened up from his perpetual hunch at seeing the detective, an identity Dojima-san still liked to lord over the former delinquent.

“Kanji-oniichan!” Nanako was up from where she was sitting on the floor and almost sprinted to the door. Kanji crouched down and held his arms out for the attack hug he received. “Are you going to spend the evening with me?”

“Yeah, Nanako-chan. You and me’re gonna have a bitc-- rockin’ time!” Dojima-san squinted at the boy using the same detective identity as before.

“Yeah! Rockin’!” Nanako imitated, punching a fist in the air before grabbing Kanji by the hand. “Look, I’ve been drawing the tomatoes outside. Do you like them?” She dragged him to the living room and Dojima-san watched Kanji stumble from their height disparity.

“You take care, now. Make sure she follows her bedtime.” Dojima-san picked up the suitcase and chewed on his toothpick, double checking if he had everything. Just before walking out the door, he turned back to the pair now sitting cross-legged on the floor. “And don’t watch any of those wrestling programmes, either!”

Even with the door closed he could hear the two of them groaning in complaint. He was tempted to turn around and make some sort of programming compromise when he heard his daughter’s voice shout out “Nanako Slam!” and a slightly over dramatic shriek of pain from who he assumed was Kanji, although it was much more feminine than Dojima-san expected from the boy. They’ll be fine.

Dojima threw his briefcase into his car, circling around to the right side to hop in the driver seat, and pulled out of their driveway.

It was a route he took once a month. Sometimes twice a month, if the situation required it. He could do the drive in his sleep, although the now-cold half cup of coffee in the drink holder next to him made sure he never did. Instead he was able to take the time to think.

Kanji Tatsumi: Sixteen years old, one hundred eighty-five centimeters tall, born on January nineteenth. Multiple charges of minor misdemeanors, usually in the form of street fights. Dojima had grown to know the kid well over the past two years and seen him change significantly. Dojima chalked it up to the influence of his nephew and the oddball group of friends they’d formed, but on this drive Dojima had another theory.

Kanji had never been the delinquent punk he had seemed. Not deep down. Instead the boy had been influenced by the views others had of him and had become what everyone thought he was. His nephew and friends hadn’t changed Kanji, only helped him be himself.

The kid made dolls, for crying out loud. He’d made Nanako’s summer yukata, and it was a magnificent work of craftsmanship! He was well on his way to taking over his family business and possibly help bring some life back to the town with his skill. If only that acumen had been fostered in him since the beginning rather than… what? Neglected? Insulted? Whatever makes good kids go bad.

This theory had been weighing heavily on Dojima’s mind for some time now. It was an example of how something small could snowball a person into being something they probably never should have been. The theory seemed sound, but a part of him hoped it was incorrect. It was a selfish part of him that just wanted to push away the pain of knowing the theory was likely true.

Dojima had arrived at his destination, pulling into the high gate and stopping at the gatehouse.

“Ryotaro Dojima, Yasoinaba police.” He flashed his identification at the guard who didn’t even look.

“That time of the month again, Dojima-san?” Dojima knew the guard wasn’t really asking it as a question. It was just a way to fill the silence as he pressed the buttons that lifted the gate.

“Yeah. It’s about that time.” Dojima said, putting his ID back into his pocket. Before he could pull ahead the guard asked him an actual question.

“Why do you keep coming, Dojima-san? Is it really worth it?” Now the guard was looking at him and Dojima could see he was a plump faced man with large arms.

“Not for me, no. But I don’t come here for me.” Dojima sighed and the guard pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. Either way Dojima drove into the parking lot surrounded by meters high fences and watchtowers.

Visiting hours were over. It was the evening, well after dinner, but as a detective he was allotted special privileges. Still, he went through the standard security, had his briefcase checked and put his metal objects in a bowl while he walked through the metal detector. It was a hassle, but by now Dojima had perfected it. Like the drive over.

He was shown into a stark room with a metal table and two metal chairs bolted to the floor. There was a one-way window lining one wall and a security camera quite obviously in the corner of the ceiling.

This was a prison. It wasn’t a large prison, housing only a couple dozen inmates. These were criminals who were not deemed an on-going threat requiring incarceration in the prefectural prison, but whose sentences were long-term and thus required something more than a town jail.

This was where Tohru Adachi was living, likely for the rest of his days.

Dojima set his briefcase on the table, opening it and removing files and the book. He left the boxed salad and the napkin-wrapped object inside. There was a buzz and a door opened, a guard ushering Adachi inside and closing it behind him.

He wore a pale green jumpsuit but was not handcuffed. A privilege he’d earned through his good behavior. The scruffy hair he wore was cut short now, but overall, the man looked healthier. Not lively, none of the excitable energy Dojima had known him for, but physically healthier.

“Adachi, you look like crap,” Dojima lied. “They feeding you right in here?” The two men sat down in the chairs, Dojima leaning back and Adachi leaning forward. If they were at an outdoor table on the Junes rooftop food court, it would be just like old times. But they weren’t.

“There’s no cabbages,” Adachi said with a smirk. “How about you, Dojima-san? Still working yourself ragged?”

Dojima was, but once again, he lied. “Nah, I’ve got some hot shot new detectives to help me with cases. Helping me solve all sorts of cases.” He reached into his open briefcase and pulled a toothpick out of a pocket, unwrapping it to put in his mouth. They’d made him spit out the one he’d been chewing on before.

Adachi paused, adjusting how he sat at the table. “No, you don’t,” he finally said.

“No, I don’t,” Dojima said as he chewed on his new toothpick. There was silence between the two of them for a moment as Dojima balled up the toothpick wrapper and, realizing there was no waste bin in the room, placed it back into his briefcase.

“That a new book?” Adachi asked, gesturing with his chin the detective novel Dojima had brought.

“Eh, it’s just something I had lying around. Figured I’d give it to you rather than toss it away.” Once again this was a lie as evident by the pristine condition of the cover and pages. Adachi made an attempt to reach across the table for it but Dojima slid it back towards himself.

“No reward until you take a look at these.” The elder detective slid the two manila folders he’d packed across the table with his other hand. Adachi stopped them with his palm and opened them both, looking at the evidence within.

“Oho, a homicide, eh?” Adachi began fanning out the evidence from one of the folders. “Let’s see, and this one is… a breaking and entering. Really?” The younger detective gave a look at the older detective and tossed the folder back like a frisbee.

“I wouldn’t have brought it if it weren’t worth looking at.” Dojima tossed the folder right back in the same way. Adachi put it down on the table, instead focusing on the homicide.

“An old woman dead, two suspects, and no alibis for either,” Adachi mumbled to himself. Dojima just sat back and watched as papers were sifted through and details skimmed. “Both have motive, but obviously both claim innocence. Body was found at the bottom of her stairs by one of the suspects. Hmm, landlord and niece of the victim, one wanted to demolish the house and the other is the benefactor of her life insurance.”

The mumbling went on as Adachi flipped the pages over one way and then back the other. It was only five minutes before Adachi looked up at Dojima with squinted eyes. “This isn’t a homicide at all. Neither one of these people did it, it really was an accident.” The elder detective smiled and put his hands behind his head and shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Yep,” was all he said.

“Damn it, Dojima-san. Why’d you get my hopes up like that?” Adachi slid the folder and its files back across the table, turning his body sideways and leaning against the back of the chair like a petulant child.

“Wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost your edge, as blunt as it was.” None of that was a lie, including that dig at his skills. As much as Dojima had tried to train the younger detective, he never really grew. “Good to see you can spot an easy one.” Dojima nodded at the other folder.

“That one is a bit more interesting,” he said, leaning forward in the chair again and leaning against the table. Adachi didn’t open the folder.

“Why are you here, Dojima-san?” Adachi said, straightening in his chair and folding his hands in his lap.

“Same reason I come every other time. Get your help on some cases, maybe give you a new book to read. Here, I even brought you a salad.” Dojima pulled the boxed salad out of the briefcase, surreptitiously taking the mystery object out of it as he opened the plastic box. “It’s cabbage,” Dojima added with a smirk.

“You know I hate cabbage,” Adachi said with audible frustration.

“I’m kidding, it’s lettuce.” The two sat in silence, although Adachi did lean forward over the table to confirm that the plastic box did indeed hold a mixed greens salad that was bereft of cabbage. “Nanako made it,” Dojima explained. Adachi sat back down, his expression souring even more. Bringing up Nanako, and that Nanako made him a salad, was a cruel thing to tell the man who had almost gotten Nanako killed. Who _had_ killed Nanako, if not for her miracle.

“I’m asking again, Dojima-san. Why do you keep coming here?” Adachi was no longer looking at Dojima, focusing instead on the hands folded in his lap.

Dojima didn’t respond. The older detective just chewed his toothpick and began unwrapping the napkin behind the screen his open briefcase provided.

“Damn it, Dojima-san! Why are you here!? Why do you _care_!?” Adachi shouted, slamming a palm onto the table and throwing daggers at his previous partner with his eyes.

“Cause maybe if I _had_ cared _you_ wouldn’t _be_ here!” The older detective snapped.

There was silence between them again. Dojima didn’t like what he had just said. He didn’t like the theory that something small could snowball a person into being someone they probably never should have been. That if something had been fostered properly in someone, they wouldn’t be… they wouldn’t have perpetrated multiple murders and manipulated an ex-statesman into several kidnappings.

Dojima looked up at Adachi who was no longer looking at him. The silence had gone on long enough, and Adachi didn’t look like he was going to break it. So Dojima slid the napkin and its contents across the table. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Adachi pulled the napkin to himself. It looked like a sushi roll, seaweed on the outside with some sort of green paste on top.

“What do you mean? You know what it is. It’s uni, your favorite.” Every time Dojima had brought a sushi platter home for him and Nanako to eat, if Adachi was there, he’d steal the only sea urchin sushi in the set.

“Why is it green?” Adachi asked in a skeptical voice.

“It’s not,” Dojima lied. Obviously lied. A boldfaced lie, considering it was clearly green.

“That’s wasabi,” Adachi concluded. He didn’t touch the thing.

“Oh, here, this will help.” Dojima reached into one of the pockets of his briefcase, found nothing, then reached into a different one. This time he pulled out three packets of soy sauce and tossed it across the table. Dojima then put the not-a-homicide folder and its contents into his briefcase and snapped it shut, leaving the novel, the boxed salad, the breaking and entering case, and the totally-not-wasabi uni sushi on the table with the packets of soy sauce.

“Go on, eat up.” Adachi did not eat up. Dojima stood from the table, hefting the briefcase.

“Hey, are you going to just leave this here?” Adachi held the breaking and entering folder up. “It’s wrong to not return these things to the station.” At least Adachi knew that.

“Keep it. I solved that case a while ago, and it’s only a copy.” Dojima stood at the door, leaning on the wall with the one-way window. “Took me a while, too. I wanna see if you can solve it by the time I come back.”

“So, you’re coming back?” Adachi asked softly.

Dojima knocked on the door to the outside world, the sign that he was done. The door was opened by a guard while another stood further back watching just in case. Dojima stood at the doorway and looked over his shoulder at his old partner. “… Solve the case, Adachi.” was all he said.

He left and the door closed behind him. Walking across the preparation room, he looked through the one-way window at Adachi and, with a smile on his face, watched the younger detective carefully pick up the sushi and place it in his mouth. Dojima and the guards stopped as Adachi’s eyes grew huge, even as he kept chewing. He scrambled to tear open one of the soy sauce packets and tilted his head back to pour it into his mouth, repeating the process with the other two.

The guards began to laugh but Dojima shot them one of his stern ‘don’t you dare’ detective looks, and they stopped. He turned back to Adachi, having calmed down and now reading the breaking and entering case file.

Dojima smiled. It was a sad smile. A smile of disappointment, of regret, of failure. Dojima was guilty of all three of those things.

But if Adachi could spend the rest of his days being repentant, so could he.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, Golden released on Steam has made me fall in love with this game all over again. My friend is a huge fan of Persona 5 and we talk about it all the time, but 4 was always my favorite, so I'm taking the opportunity to flex my creativity.
> 
> The bit at the end where the sea urchin in the sushi is replaced with wasabi was something that happened in the official recorded version of the Persona 4 stage play "Persona 4 Visualive The Evolution", which is the second part of the two stage plays that cover Persona 4 (The first is just called "Persona 4 Visualive"). The scene where Adachi steals the sea urchin was changed just for this recording. The rest of the cast played a prank on the Adachi actor and replaced it with wasabi, who broke character and pointed out that it was green and wasabi. The Dojima and Yu actors insisted it was sea urchin and then led the audience in a chant of "eat it, eat it!". The Adachi actor was a champ and ate the sushi! What's great is the Dojima actor offered a bottle of water to the Adachi actor… which was a bottle of soy sauce.
> 
> Anyways, if you enjoyed please let me know in the comments below! I am fueled by critiques on my writing, so any positive or negative or discussion based comments will inspire me to write more and, hopefully, improve as a writer!


End file.
